


Watching Him Remember

by orphan_account



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Advanced Idea Mechanics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Avengers Family, Best Friends, Civil War Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Making Up, More angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Portals, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve finds his relationship with Tony in tatters. Now he is tasked with the impossible job of repairing it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a sort of light writing that I can have fun with. Nothing stressful to bog down my already insane schedule, but still writing. SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! 
> 
> There, now that we have that said, please enjoy! ... if this thing is even readable...

It was just been them that night. Natasha, Clint, and Bruce were out on patrol and the others at the old New York tower. And Bucky? Well, he was taking a break from it all, frozen in a tube within the great hidden city of Wakanda.

It was breakfast for dinner, one of Tony’s favorites -at least that’s what he remembered it as being. It had been a while since they’d last talked, like _really_ talked.

Absently flipping an egg, Steve shot a glance into the next room to where Tony was resting, draped over one of the arms of the cushy sofa. His jacket was cast aside on the seat next to him along with whatever he’d been working on. Steve was willing to bet that it was some kind of new prototype of sorts. Tony despised working in the business side of things and always pushed that side of the work towards others like Pepper and Rhodey. No, business was 90% out of the picture.  Across from the tech genius was a large entertainment center, the TV’s newsfeed buzzing softly while captions ran wild across the screen. A picture of a car crash popped up next to the news anchor and the woman gestured toward, her face solemn.

Tony mumbled something in his sleep and shifted, his head lolling to the side, drawing Steve’s attention once more. Without meaning to, he found himself taking note of the new lines on his friend’s face. The shadow of a scar marred his upper left temple. Just the sight of it made Steve’s stomach twist. It was a visual reminder of when both of their worlds had changed -maybe forever. Most prominent of all, however, were the cheekbones that jutted from Tony’s face as though he’d been sculpted from clay, throwing the deep purple bags beneath his eyes into sharp contrast.

 _He’s lost weight,_ Steve thought worriedly.

Something sizzled in the pan and he cursed under his breath. He turned off the burner. Thankfully, the egg wasn’t burned, but it was certainly a little bit more browned than he’s intended. Smoothly, he flipped it onto a nearby plate and prepped the pan for another. He was about to crack the shell open when Tony muttered again, this time forming distinct words.

_“Pick it up.”_

Steve froze, tense for no reason in particular.

_“Steve- no- wait-”_

Now Tony had his one-hundred percent attention. Putting down the raw egg, Steve rinsed his hands in the faucet and turned around, retying the strings of his sweatpants as he went. His eyes narrowed on the man. Something was happening.

The man’s head jerked from side to side, a look of pain contorting flashing across his face. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Steve warily approached, keenly aware of Tony’s clenched fists and tightened muscles ready to strike. He made it about three feet from the couch when suddenly Tony jerked, springing to his feet with a gasp.

Steve froze, his heart pounding.

Tony was still, a hand raised to his temple, facing the opposite direction. His chest heaved, though his breathing was more even than before. 

“Tony?” Steve ventured.

The genius turned slowly and shot him a look of confusion that quickly transformed into irritation. Wordlessly, he exited the room and made his way to the nearest bathroom, fists clenched at his sides, slamming the door behind him. Alone, Steve sighed and hung his head.

_Back to square one._

Tony came back a half hour later, pale and sickly. Steve attempted to catch his eye but found that the man was avoiding him. Sighing, the soldier returned to packing the uneaten meal into the already over-crowded refrigerator. Tony usually poked through the leftovers at odd hours. Maybe he would feel more inclined to eat it later.

_If only._

It was a love-hate relationship not unlike the cheesy ‘silent treatment’ that teenagers used to give each other… except neither of them were teenagers and they’d both tried to kill one another far more recently than either of them would care to remember. It hurt to think how much their friendship had fallen from before. Sure the events during the whole Ultron scandal hadn't helped, but they had grown much closer after that, constructing a new generation of Avengers as a result. 

So much had gone wrong. 

_Is this it?_

Steve didn't want it to end.

 

After several more hours tossing around weights, Steve returned to the kitchen only to find Tony seated on the couch all over again. This time, the man was awake and pouring over the very same tablet, a frown plastered to his face. He was in his full suit and an unopened MacDonald’s burger sat on the coffee table next to him, setting a sharp contrast to the masses of paperwork fanning about the area.  

Even as Steve watched, the screen of the television flashed red, issuing an obnoxious buzzing sound. Abruptly, Tony got to his feet, calling for FRIDAY through his earpiece. Steve tapped his own, listening as Natasha’s voice came through, urgently calling for backup.

“Hammertech again,” she grumbled, “damn robots keep coming up everywhere. I’d say that we’d be pretty good, but there’s a lot of civilians.”

“Nat, I’ll meet you guys there,” Tony said, straightening his coat, “Cap, hold down the fort.”

Without so much as a backward glance, he was gone. 

Steve set his jaw, frustration coursing through his body. Of course, how could he forget that he was once again dealing with -quite possibly- the most insufferable man in the whole entire world? Listening to the babble of the comms, he stomped back to his room and dove into the shower in the hopes of clearing his mind. He would be standing by just in case they needed backup, but why would they? They had Hulk, Iron Man, and Black Widow on the case- not to mention all the rest of the damn team. 

They wouldn't need him, would they?

Steve doubted it. 

 

 

The others returned early next morning, sporting a few scrapes and bumps. After sarcastically commenting on how he’d been given the most exciting job in the world, Steve left the penthouse for a jog, practically steaming out the ears. 

_Maybe coming back wasn’t such a good idea after all…_

The twenty miles seemed to evaporate before him, but he hardly noticed it at all. His mind was occupied.

 

When he returned, the penthouse seemed _too_ crowded. Natasha and Falcon were at the dinner table, deep in discussion, while Hulk and Hawkeye occupied the couch watching the news. Without meaning to, Steve scanned the room for Tony, feeling disappointment fill him as he realized that the man wasn’t there. He needed to talk to the man, his emotions were tearing him apart. At this point, he didn't even care if Tony rejected him, at least he could get it off his chest. 

Nat waved and he greeted her with what felt like a forced smile. Clearly, she noticed the charade but did not comment -much to his relief. Across from her, Falcon saluted, grinning like an idiot. Mutely, Steve nodded a reply before exiting the room once more. Natasha’s eyes were burning holes in the back of his shirt and he didn’t feel like answering their unspoken question.

_Sorry, Natasha, I haven't been myself lately..._

 

His feet carried him down a few sets of stairs before he realized that he was facing Tony’s lab. Cursing, he made to turn back around but came up short as he heard a soft moan. As he looked over his shoulder, he spied a dark form curled on the floor beside one of the workbenches, motionless and sprawling. 

“Tony?” He called, inching towards the door, “you alright?”

There was no response from inside the lab.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this officially will have more than 2 chapters. Getting more angsty and I'm kinda liking it. Still feels more like a drabble to me.  
> Also bumping up the rating b/c of language. Idk I don't usually write what's considered foul language, but idk... using any other wording just felt too light for this one.

Without hesitation, Steve made his way into the lab, crouching beside the prone figure on the ground. He noted several canisters by him, most sealed, but one lying wide open.

“My god- FRIDAY, what happened?” Steve called up to the AI, eyes trained on the screen of the nearest computer.

“Mr. Stark was altering the ******* canisters when-”

Steve blinked, “the what?”

If FRIDAY were humanized, like Vision, Steve was sure that she would be rolling her eyes.

“A form of what is typically referred to as ‘knockout gas’,” the AI clarified, “Mr. Stark was altering the housing on the canisters when he accidentally triggered one of them. With this particular chemical makeup, the subject is expected to stay out for at least two hours.”

“And how long has he been out already?”

“Approximately 47 minutes.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned back against the metal of the workbench, absent-mindedly rolling the open canister between his fingers.

“And here he had me scared for a moment,” he mused, a ghost of a smile playing about his face.

_Damn you, Stark._

He sighed and hauled himself to his feet. There was no use just sitting around, was there? Tiredly, he ran a hand through his hair, a laugh bubbling from his lips. Of all things, Stark had knocked himself out? One would imagine that he’d be more careful with stuff like that.

_Just another day in Avengers tower._

After a short pause, Steve rose, gripping Tony under the arms before heaving him over his shoulder. The man’s head lolled and his arm came sideways, smacking Steve in the face with a limp hand.

So it seemed that even in his sleep, Tony Stark had an attitude.

_How fitting._

After trekking up three flights of stairs, Steve crossed the threshold of Tony’s room. Like many of the rooms that the genius occupied, it was chaos. Clearly, however, this mess had not been touched in a while. A thin layer of dust coated the topmost set of papers laid out on the top of the man’s bed and powered the wood dresser in the corner. Close to the door sat a small metal chair with an expensive looking cushion balanced precariously on its seat and Steve carefully lowered Tony onto its surface, painfully aware of how the man refused to stay upright once seated.

For a moment, he paused, looking the man up and down.

_Damn, he’s beautiful._

_And vicious._

_And stubborn as hell._

_And probably hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in quite a while._

Turning, he walked a lap of the room, admiring the minimalist decorations and pastel color scheme. It was rather fitting for the man, he thought. It seemed, not to his surprise, that the room had a ‘colder’ feel to it, as though it served as only a place of occasional use and little effort -which it did.

Resignedly, Steve began to pull the papers off of the bed, compiling them into a single organized pile on the dresser. While he was in the mood, he also took the liberty of changing the bedsheets and pillow before throwing the drugged man under the covers.  

If Tony were awake -and if it was three years ago- the man would probably have made some sarcastic comment about his age and something about ‘finally getting him in bed’, etc. The man had never managed to go a single day without making fun of him in some way…

_Those days are over._

He didn’t notice himself nodding off, maybe it was the jog earlier or the trip to the weight room. Either way, Steve woke up one hour later to a muffled yell from the bed.

_“No!”_

Instantly, he was wide awake. It was only through years of practice that he did not leap to his feet, but rather cracked open his eyelids and waited. There was no telling how Tony would react. It did not seem as though he was completely aware though…

Knuckles white as they gripped the blankets, his shoulders hunched, and his legs folded into his chest, the man shuddered once more.

_“You’ll never- No- no- I can’t be the last one-”_

_“Can’t have killed you all-”_

_“No!”_

Steve wondered, not for the first time, what the man was seeing. Where and what had it been? Too often, he had seen men suffer like this during the war. They saw thing -heard things- that weren’t real, but seemed just as tangible as the very air in which they breathed. It was the memories too terrible to describe that caused it.

In front of him, Tony sat bolt-upright, his eyes wide with panic.

Steve shut his eyes, not wanting to see the rest.

“Steve?” He heard the other man whisper, “-the hell?”

“J-FRIDAY, I gassed myself, didn’t I?”

The AI’s feminine voice came over a speaker, eloquent in its response.

“Yes, sir. It seems that one of the canisters activated as you were configuring its activation system.”

“And I’m assuming Steve moved me back here.”

“Correct.”

“Ugh,” the genius made a sound, but it did not sound like disgust… more like resigned acceptance?

Steve pretended to just be waking up, making a show of stretching before opening his eyes. Immediately, he was greeted by a look of veiled suspicion. He pretended not to notice how much it ate away at his heart.

“You’re awake,” he supplemented, it at least did _something_ to break the silence.

Tony snorted, “way to speak the obvious there, Rogers.”

Steve stood up slowly, straightening his shirt as he went. For a moment, he stood there fiddling with a loose thread of his pants before shoving his hands in his pockets.

_Screw this._

“We need to talk.” He blurted, “well -I need to talk to you.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and hummed softly, “alright then- what for? Why should I talk to you?” His eyes narrowed dangerously and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry Tony. Look, I’m only trying to make things right ag-”

The genius sat ram-rod straight, shoving aside the covers, his face reddening.

_Crap._

“Look, Rogers, you decided to screw things to hell and back the moment you sided with _him_. You understand me? Do you have any idea what kind of a position you put me in?”

Tony was practically spitting, “you turned your back on the law. Not just that, you walked away from your friends. There were casualties to that fight and just think about what you dragged Scott into. Just think of what he has to deal with! House arrest, Hank and Hope on the run, that’s just the start.”

Steve could feel his own face heating up at those words, rage beginning to take hold. He fought to keep the emotions down but, it burst out eventually, breaking free of the cage he had placed it in like a runaway tiger.

“Bucky was my friend, Tony. He fought with me in the war for years and years. I thought he was _dead_ , do you understand? They were going to torture him- make him kill others like a machine. Do you honestly think he was at fault? They had him in a box, Tony, going in circles, being their scapegoat-“

Tony’s voice was deadly when he responded, venomous, “give me one reason why I should care about how you felt towards Bucky, Steve. If you feel so strongly towards him, then tell me how I feel about Rhodey’s legs -that’s on you buddy.”

“Wasn’t that Visio-”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t exactly _aiming_ for his teammate and who put him in that circumstance in the first place, huh?”

“You can’t just blame it all on me, Tony, the accords-” Once again, Steve found himself cut off by another onslaught.

“Bullshit! The accords were guidelines that we _deserved_ to have put on us, Steve. The Tri-Carriers, New York, Sokovia, they all have repercussions.” Tony gestured widely with his arms, a disbelieving look on his face, “and whala, look what we have here. We’re right smack-dab inside the same fucking debate as we were right before things went to hell. Thank you, Steve Rogers, have a good night.”

Tony offered a mock salute and stood up from the bed, his legs shaky. After a few steps, however, he regained his balance enough to stride out the door.

Steve just about put a hole in the wall.


	3. Chapter 3

It was only through sheer force of will that Steve managed to keep himself from going after the stubborn man. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed hard, searching instead for something to distract his attention.

_Breathe, Rogers, breathe._

His mind refused to break away and he found himself ruminating over the conversation, absently pacing Tony’s room. All that time ago, it had been too easy to see things in one way, to view the world as if it would not change much even with such a large decision.

More than anything, Steve had not expected the backlash from his own friends. He and Tony had definitely had a rocky start, but they had really come a long way. He couldn’t help but wonder, in retrospect, if there had been a way to have settled things peacefully.

Tony had come to him after their big airport fight, _admitting_ that he was in the wrong, willing to fix a broken relationship. And then things had gone straight to hell, driving a rift through their friendship.

“Oh for god’s sake, it’s not like you two were married.” Natasha’s exasperated voice floated into his ears. The woman was leaning on the doorframe, absently twirling a strand of auburn hair between two fingers. Even as he watched, her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Find a good time to sit down and talk.”

Steve sighed and stared upwards, “if only it were that simple.”

Natasha snorted, “nobody said it was that hard. I’ll get the duct tape.”

Now that was a picture. Steve let out a barking laugh as his mind cooked up an image of Tony taped to a chair, angrily staring up at him as he poured out his heart and soul.

“Yeah-no, I’ll pass,” he shook his head, “but that would be entertaining.”

She shot him back a smile which quickly dissolved. “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” She asked gently.

_Yes._

Steve couldn’t bring himself to lie, wordlessly staring at the wall. Wordlessly, Natasha slid over and pulled him into a hug. After a moment of hesitation, he accepted the embrace and buried his face in her shoulder. She rubbed circles into his back, soothingly.

“You’ve only been back for a month, give him time. I know one month is a long time, but you need to understand what it was like for him when you were gone.”

A sinking feeling entered his stomach. It was as though a knife of guilt had stabbed him in the midsection, twisting its way into his soul. It hurt so bad that he was only just realizing how much he’d hurt the man. Natasha kept going, her voice low, yet still soft and strong.

“Steve, he loved you. He loved you so much and didn’t say anything. To him, losing you was like losing an arm or leg -it was crippling. It nearly took him a year to even talk about it with me and the others? They noticed it all right but they were too afraid that he was going to shut them out if they mentioned it -your name was taboo here, Steve. And then when you came back with Clint and the others it was like someone had put a hole in his personal comfort zone he just sort of shut down.”

Steve breathed slowly, his nose picking up the light vanilla scent of the conditioner she used. Never before had he appreciated her more. If the Avengers were a family, then she was the calm listener, the counselor which held them all together. Too many times, the team had nearly fractured from some stupid argument or small issue. They were like that, “a walking time bomb” as Banner had once said. Well, that was back when they had been in a standoff, but it was still true. Despite this, she had managed to sit everyone down and get things straightened out. It was either her or Banner. That was if it _was_ Banner. Often times, such arguments would draw out Hulk and that, as one could expect, made things slightly more difficult.

“He seems… sick.” Steve managed, “has he been like this the whole time?”

Natasha pulled away and backed up to sit on the bed, folding her arms and staring at him intently. She shook her head.

“Not the whole time, no. I’d say in the last few months, it’s gotten much worse. He hasn’t been sleeping like he used to. Only about 3-4 hours a night now… which is far from healthy, even for him.”

Steve blanched, “wait you were watch- what? That’s not good.”

Natasha smiled slyly, “I have my ways, but yes, it’s bad. He’s been surviving off of caffeine, alcohol, and pills.” Her face fell, “I’ve tried talking to him, but he isn’t listening and I don’t want to push him too hard. He’d be so easy to push over the edge right now... I’ve been able to sneak some mild sedatives into his food once in a while, but it’s gotten difficult to manage. Clint, Vision, and I have been covering his shifts for him.”

“My god, Nat- and this is in the last month?”

She shook her head, “longer, I’m afraid. I was communicating with Clint and Wanda before you guys even came back. They took a little convincing at first, but I was able to get them to help cover for Tony. It’s just been lately that we’ve become desperate. He really doesn’t want you on missions and we’ve been quite shorthanded…” Her voice trailed off.

Steve shook his head disbelievingly, “you really went all-out, didn’t you?”

“I’d do it for any of you, despite what you might think,” Natasha sighed, her eyes tracing the open doorway, “It’s a mess, Steve, but there’s one thing for sure. Today is just the start, he made a mistake; it’s something that he could’ve easily been able to avoid if he’d been in a right state of mind, not to mention well rested. Tony is going to crash soon, and hard. I guess I’m asking you now-”

Her eyes locked with Steves, boring into him like lasers.

“Will you be there to catch him when he falls?”

||

Steve’s mind was abuzz when he left Tony’s room, filled with pity and the odd urge to go and smother the genius in a bear hug. Of course, this wouldn’t be the best idea… especially now that he’d heard Natasha’s story.

_“Will you be there to catch him when he falls?”_

_Steve had been silent for a moment. Why wouldn’t he be? Well, for starts, he didn’t want to end up hurting the man. Maybe after hearing all this, it would be better for him to just leave… If his presence was so painful to Tony, then maybe it wasn’t worth it. On the other hand, maybe he could fix this. Maybe -just maybe- staying would be the right thing to do._

_He rubbed the bridge of his nose before looking back into Natasha’s eyes, “I will if he will let me.”_

Natasha had then proceeded to mention that she would try and find a way to get them into the same room to talk. Then, she’d just left as though that were it.

Upon thinking it over, he had to agree with her. There really wasn’t anything more to discuss.

The first thing he did was go for another run, clearing another twenty miles before turning around and doubling that number on the return trip back to the penthouse. He recalled Falcon’s indignant cries whenever he’d lapped the man.

_“Bro, don’t you dare say it! Don’t you say ‘on your left’, don’t do it!”_

He’d said it anyway and their friendship had begun, just like that. It was a very different introduction than for what he’d had with Tony, now that was for sure. Besides having his reputation precede him, the genius had seemed stubborn, seemingly self-centered, and narcissistic for starters -many of which facts were true only to a certain extent.

The thing was with Tony…well… it was complicated. It felt as though the longer he knew the man, the more that he had heard about him was incorrect.

Tony had so many damn layers, so many masks stacked over his true personality like shields that it was almost impossible to know the man fully even after years of working with him. What did he have to hide? More importantly, what was he hiding _from_? One day, he hoped to learn that secret, even though he had a good idea what the answer was.

Tony Stark was hiding from himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed chapter 1's attack to Hammertech. Sorry for the last minute swap, but I felt like it fit better. That way, AIM also gets a better explanation. 
> 
> Getting some action in this chapter ;)

That night, the alarm went off at about half past two in the morning, filling the quiet penthouse with a horrific bleeping noise. Groaning and muttering a soft curse under his breath, Steve sat up in bed, groping for his earpiece which he always left on the bedside table. Finding it, he jammed it into his ear harder than he meant to, wincing as it connected rather painfully with cartilage.

From the penthouse’s speaker system, FRIDAY was running through a laundry list of diagnostics, spurting fancy technobabble every few seconds. Despite the unnecessarily complex wording, he caught the wind of the problem.

AIM again, but this time they had hostages.

_Shit._

Through the earpiece, Natasha’s voice came through loud and clear. “Wanda and Vision are on it, they’re coming from Manhattan to back us up. Tony, I’ll meet you in the hangar in five. Thor’s still MIA so we need as much air support as possible.”

“Need any of us?” Clint’s sleepy voice cut in. Like Steve, the archer had clearly been asleep when the alert had come through.

A muted roar came through the input, making Steve wince. That was Hulk speaking.

“Hold back for a bit, I’d rather get an assessment of the situation before we send everyone in.” Natasha responded.

Steve sat there mutely, a hand raised to his ear. Of course, he could ask, but then again was would be the point? Tony was going and that meant he was staying, it _always_ meant that he was staying. Not bothering to take out the earpiece, he fell back into the soft pillow, pulling at the blankets with frustration. He let his eyes flutter closed.

_This place is a prison- a luxurious cell._

“Steve? Steve, come in.” Natasha’s voice seemed piercing through the link, “this is a private channel.”

Instantly, he was alert, “what is it?” He asked, hope sending tingles through his body.

“Meet me down here ASAP. I’m bringing you in. Tony doesn’t know and he’ll pitch a fit. He also left a minute ago.”

Steve had to stifle a stupid grin and as he out of bed. Stark was going to be so pissed at him. Pulling his suit from where it hung in the closet, he hastily slipped into it, keenly aware of the seconds ticking by on the clock on his wall. Finally, he pulled his shield onto his arm, silently thanking Bruce for convincing Tony to return it to him.

Pulling open the door, he booked it down to the hangar bay, his hurried footsteps seeming to echo loudly throughout the penthouse as he did so.

_Finally, I’m leaving this place._

He burst into the Quinjet, making Natasha spin around. Upon seeing him, she smiled and shook her head at his expression. Steve imagined that he looked like a child on Christmas day, racing downstairs to see all the presents under the tree. Calming, he assumed a casual stance and raised his eyebrows at Natasha, who was still staring. She turned around.

“Good to have you back,” she smirked, “oh, Tony is going to be so mad. It’s not like we had a choice, not having you has spread the others thin, what and with Panther not joining us… We got lucky with Bruce returning last year, that helped more than you could imagine.”

The Quinjet shuddered and lifted off the landing pad. Natasha ran through procedure and soon they were speeding up across the New York skyline and into the clouds.

“So here’s the situation,” Natasha spoke from the cockpit, “AIM is in Chicago this time, took hostages, and is now headed north on an unmarked ship. They’ll be crossing into southern Michigan within the hour. Our job is to take them down before they make landfall to avoid civilian casualties and damage. SHIELD has the Air Force and National Guard on the line; they’re working to make sure that we have a clear sky when we take them, but we can expect backup if we need it.”

Steve nodded. As far as their work was concerned, this sounded pretty standard.

“-but,” Natasha cleared her throat, “we think that Red Skull has his hand in this, so we’re going to have to tread carefully. As you know, the ‘Kabal’ have been giving us a hard time lately.”

He groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I read the report.”

Nearly six months ago, while he had been in consideration to return to the Avengers, Steve had received a file from Natasha -who he had been communicating with at the time. It had contained a fairly detailed report on the reemergence of Red Skull, something that he found to be extremely disconcerting. Apparently, Skull had crash-landed in the Atlantic, right off the coast of Maine, babbling about space stones and other such weapons. The Avengers had scrambled to confine him, but had arrived just barely too late. AIM had gotten to him first. Since, then Red Skull had been something of an urban legend, occasionally popping up on their radar and spreading the rumor of a secret organization of supervillains called the Kabal.

“Let me guess, that’s part of the reason why you want me on this one?”

She nodded before turning back to the console.

||

The rest of the trip was spent mostly in silence. Steve had to admit that he felt nervous to be out on the front lines again. Being in hiding for so long had meant isolation and, as much he hated to admit it, the loss of contact had left a mark on him. He was more withdrawn and prone to standing on the outside of conversations as well as less likely to offer his opinion in them. Another subconscious thing, which he was trying to discourage, was how he tended to gravitate towards such loud conversations. It wasn’t that he was nosy, quite the opposite, but he had missed the endless discussions and passive-aggressive talks about their next mission. It was funny because Bruce had noticed Steve’s new behavior almost immediately. After a particularly heated mission briefing, he’d pulled Steve aside and asked him if everything was alright. Steve had told him the truth, plain and simple. Natasha had also hinted that she’d made a note of his change, but hadn’t said anything outright. She’d even steered him out of the direct spotlight several times when Tony had pounced on the blame train a couple of times. He appreciated her efforts, but hoped he wouldn’t have to rely on them in the future.

Finally, Natasha guided the Quinjet down under the clouds.

“-receiving?” The ship’s internal speakers buzzed with the sound of Vision’s voice.

Steve rose and came to stand behind Natasha, staring out the viewport at the pitch darkness. The navigation computer had lit up and showed a holographic landscape below them; it featured a set of red dots, representing each Avenger in the area.

“We read you, Vision.” Natasha quickly replied, “you guys in position? Tony?”

“I’m in position,” Wanda replied.

“I have eyes on target,” Vision whispered. Based on the nav. screen, the pseudo-human was travelling just West of the ship, skimming the water, tracking a triangular symbol -which Steve assumed was the enemy ship. A red dot was speeding on an intercept course with the ship from the side, contrasting with the cubic marker of the ship. That had to be Tony.

“Ready when you are,” came Stark’s voice, “who’ve we got?”

“Wanda is on the ground on the coast and Vision is behind us tracking the ship.” Natasha relayed, “Steve and I are coming in with the Quinjet.”

“Oh.” Tony’s response was cold, making Steve sight. What had he been expecting? A warm welcome?

“Alright, let’s do this,” Natasha said in an overly-bright voice, “standard extraction. Vision, you’re up.”

“I’m going in,” the sound of rushing air accompanied Vision’s voice. “Stark, are you ready up there?”

The comms. broke off as the two moved in and Natasha steered them closer till Steve could see the white running lights of the enemy ship. She sat back.

“Just out of curiosity,” Steve looked at her, “why so many of us for this? I feel like just Vision and Iron Man would’ve been sufficient for this. There’s something else is going on, isn’t there?”

Natasha sighed and ran a finger across the navi computer’s screen. She was no longer steering having just switched to autopilot.

“Last time we had an AIM attack, we received a tip that next time that they were planning something big. I just have a feeling…” Her voice trailed off as she looked back through the viewport.

Steve craned his neck to see down to the enemy ship. From a distance, it appeared that Vision and Tony were wrestling a few men out of some fused metal restraints.

“Shit.” Natasha’s cry echoed throughout the small cabin, just as Steve saw the small robot burst from beneath the waves.

Small and moving insanely fast, the small bot was careening upwards toward where the two hostages were being rescued. A light blinked on and off, growing faster in speed the closer it came to the enemy craft.

“Pull out! Pull out! Vision, Tony, there’s a robot inbound.” Natasha’s fingers were flying across the console, “scanners indicate that it is a bomb -repeat, repeat, _pull out!_ Tony-”

A high-pitched squeak nearly made Steve go deaf and he hurriedly yanked pulled the communicator from his ear, wincing. Natasha pulled her headset off of her head and leaped to her feet, bending over and pulling the Quinjet from autopilot.

“They don’t know it’s coming, something’s jamming the signal-”

“Tony!” Steve sprang forwards and pounded his fist on the glass window as he watched, with horror, as the running lights on the genius’s suit flickered out. Poor Vision managed to snag the falling man by what would’ve been the suit’s shirt collar as he frantically worked to free the two hostages without accidentally cutting off one of their limbs.

“Wanda? Can you read me? Clint? FRIDAY?”

A string of curses filled the air as Natasha yelled into the -now dead- comms system.

“Nat?” He cried, “what are you-”

Then he understood the Quinjet’s sharp descent, their trajectory and breakneck speeds, as well as Natasha’s intention.

“I hope you can still swim!” Natasha grabbed an emergency parachute and threw one at Steve. “Go! Go!” She yelled, punching the button to activate the bay door.

Steve made sure she was out before throwing himself off he lip of the Quinjet’s hatch and into the turbulent air above Lake Michigan. He had maybe five to ten seconds before the loud rushing of air was sliced apart by fire.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! My real life stuff got in the way, but now I'm on break *cheers*   
> I will be releasing the next chapter in about 5 days, just so that I can catch up.

The water frothed and boiled. Something hard collided with Steve’s head and water rushed up his nose, burning its way down his throat as he coughed to try and stop if from choking him. The darkness was deadly, that much he could be sure of. Metal fragments were everywhere, many of them red hot and slowly sinking into the water, throwing a trail of bubbles behind them. His head throbbed and he suddenly became aware of his sinking parachute and how he was being dragged downwards. Vaguely, he remembered deploying it in the air…

_Air. I need air!_

His lungs were screaming, painful and filled with needles. Desperately, he tried to break free of the parachute but found that it had somehow gotten tangled with his legs. Boot clasps, armor padding, and cloth were matted together in one giant clump.

_Stupid, Steve, stupid!_

Attempting to calm himself, he fumbled at his belt for his knife and came up with nothing. Panic spiked through his body as he realized that the sheath was empty.

Just then, a hand closed around his arm and a flash of bright blue lit up the water around him. Heat scorched his face and hands as the red-gold metal of Iron Man surrounded him.

_Tony._

With a gut-wrenching feeling, Steve was ripped from the clutches of the parachute and propelled upwards, metallic hands gripping him around the waist. His ears popped and his head pounded as they rose. Steve bared his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his lower lip.

They exploded out of the water, breaking the surface so fast that Steve could feel his hair drying on the spot. His comms fizzled to life as they continued to rise into the air. A garbled fizzing came through the comms and Steve managed to only catch the higher tones of Natasha’s voice before the channel cut out again.

He was about to ask Tony what was happening when suddenly they spun in the air and went into a sharp, twisting dive. A soft yell slipped past Steve’s lips and he found himself clinging to the suit for dear life, Tony’s arms no longer holding him steady. Something blew up nearby and heat momentarily scorched his skin. Tony spun again and a metallic elbow collided painfully with his skull. Up and down they went, spinning and dodging this way and that as some unseen force fired at them. All the while, the comms maintained that same deathly silence -jammed.

His thoughts turned to Natasha, wondering if she was alright. There was nothing that he could do for her now and there was no mistaking the fury in Tony’s silence. The man was _pissed_ , that much was obvious. In the back of his mind, Steve knew Nat would be fine, but from the perspective of both a friend and teammate, he had to worry.

 

The air was cold, freezing to the touch and even colder when speeding through it on the _outside_ of a metal suit. Steve’s skin had long since broken out into goosebumps and his gloved hands, which still were glued to the suit, were stiff and frozen; every breath came like a lungful of needles.

Somewhere in the frenzy of aerial acrobatics, Steve had to close his eyes to avoid being sick. The world was spinning and, in all the darkness, there was no way of knowing what direction was up or down anymore. His shield had fallen off before he’d hit the water and Steve found himself missing it dearly. It was like a part of him had stayed below the waves, deep the depths of the ocean. He didn’t really have a chance to think about it, however, as Tony’s insane acrobatics kept his brains scrambled beyond belief.

Steve couldn’t help thinking of what it would have been like years prior. Tony usually would be so gentle with him when he was flying, making sure that he would never risk falling even in the most dangerous of situations. Well, that was just one of the few more recent differences. As the air blossomed with the fires of explosions, Steve felt his body pulled in every direction as he fought to keep ahold of the armor. He gritted his teeth as his arms burned.

_Nope, there’s no way in hell that I’m letting go. It’s a long fall down and god only knows if its water down there still…_

Squinting upwards, Steve caught sight of flashing lights. A ship maybe? It was difficult to say through the halo of red and orange flashes.

 _Wanda,_ he thought, _we must be closer to shore then._

“Hold on tight.”

The mask distorted Tony’s voice just as badly as Steve remembered, which more surprised him than anything else when the man spoke.

“What do you think I’m doing?” He shot back, unable to keep the strain out of his voice.

Tony’s intent was clear when he went into a straight nosedive for the small blips of light far below. Steve’s yell of surprise was swallowed by the wind. A dark shape was approaching -and fast. From the light of the bursts of flame, he saw the sleek body of what he presumed to be an AIM light cruiser. Well, at least it was ‘light’ from a certain point of view. By the Steve noticed the many onboard guns, he was already careening into an exposed gunman who had maintained position despite the gaping, charred hole in the side of the ship.

With a sickening crunch, he hit the yellow-clad figure, sending the man -and seat of the gun- flying. The next thing he knew, everything hurt. Groaning, he clambered to his feet and leveled a glare at the hovering Avenger nearby.

Of course, Tony would do that. _Only_ Tony would do that and he probably had secretly been looking for an opportunity for the last few months.

_How nice._

The AIM soldier was going nowhere; he lay sprawling against the wall to Steve’s left, slumped forward and motionless. The gun, which had been partially melted down by one of Tony’s repulsors, lay in a similar state.

“What the _hell_ , Rogers,” Tony’s faceplate slid back, revealing the furious billionaire beneath it. A sheen of sweat covered the man’s face and when he looked into Steve’s eyes, there was a touch of madness in his gaze. His tone was accusatory, practically screaming _‘you don’t belong here’_ and _‘traitor’._

Old emotions which Steve had worked so hard to bury threatened to boil over once more and he balled up a fist, exhaling. Tony knew _exactly_ which buttons to press at the wrong times. It also didn’t help that he was, many times, overemotional and hypersensitive about so many things himself -especially when it came to his massive ego.

“This discussion has to wait.” He said, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. “Right now, we need to concentrate on finishing the mission.”

Tony’s lip curled -a terrible sight that Steve hoped he’d never see again before he slammed the mask back down over his face. The genius’s right hand rose, his palm glowing blue and for one awful moment, Steve thought that his old friend was going to shoot him. The blue beam of light carved the metal wall down like it was butter, exposing a dimly lit hallway beyond. Wordlessly, Tony bashed down any remaining chunks of metal and proceeded deeper into the ship.

Watching his old friend’s retreating back, Steve couldn’t help wondering if their friendship was really over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I have attempted to go through editing this before updating but will go through later and do a more in-depth walkthrough. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!


	6. Chapter 6

The penthouse was silent again, just downright depressing. Several days had passed since Steve had taken his first mission with the team -an event which had proved disastrous almost immediately.

Right after they had entered the ship, Tony and Steve had been faced with combat; even the simplest of maneuvers presented a far greater challenge than he’d ever thought possible within a team. Natasha had shown up moments before the action, presenting Steve with his shield, allowing him to take on his favored style of combat. In many respects, the shield had done more harm than good in the end.

Tony had been pinned by four or five of the newest generation of Hammerdrones when Steve had found him. He’d chucked his shield forward, anticipating that it would bury itself into the bulkhead behind Tony several seconds later. That, however, had _not_ been the case. In a rapidly degrading situation, Tony had fired the ‘unibeam’ as he called it, punching through the robots and -unfortunately- the shield’s trajectory. Thrown off course, the vibranium dinnerplate had plowed into Natasha, who’d been fighting nearby. Though it hadn’t injured her, it had thrown her to the ground, winded. Steve was just glad that it had hit her on the domed side, rather than the deadly rim which he usually used in combat, to the deadly outcome.

No doubt, Tony had been pissed to high hell, taking out his anger on anyone who’d listen. Steve had applauded his own good sense as he had holed up in his room almost immediately and opted to talk with Natasha on a private line rather than brave the living room.

Clint and Bruce had both taken turns attempting to calm Tony, starting even in the Quinjet when they’d come in to pick them up. Steve wished that their efforts had resulted in more. They cared so much and Tony… well, he was being Tony about it.

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Two days ago, he had been excited about the mission. Two days ago, his life had also taken a downwards turn. Two days ago, Tony had shut himself in the lab again and refused to come out like a petulant child… Two days… Was it his fault it had all gone to hell, or was it Tony’s? Either way, he was feeling depressed and nothing seemed to be going particularly well. Sure, there was Wanda and Vision’s victory over MODOK to celebrate, but that was it... No Red Skull, no two Quinjets anymore, and no improvement in the relationship between himself and Tony.

He was ruminating and he knew it.

||

On the fourth day from the mission, a quarter past twelve, Steve was awoken by a disturbance coming up the stairs. His heart, still heavy and full of regret, nearly froze as he saw the limp form of Tony Stark being pulled up the stairs between Natasha and Clint. Behind them, Bruce’s anxious face appeared shortly after as he ran over what looked like diagnostics on a tablet.

Approaching, Steve walked up to the trio apprehensively. “What happened?” He asked Bruce softly.

The man hesitated before pulling off the heavy set of glasses he wore and sighing. Tired brown eyes met Steve’s.

“It’s not fatal, but he’s been careless lately. My best guess -and judging by the anatomical map FRIDAY gave me- he’s been experimenting with nanites. Something he’s done is just-” He gestured wildly with his arms, “he just- It’s hard to say because, hell, Steve, we’re talking nanotechnology and he’s just done something stupid again. Look, I think there’s been some kind of disagreement between his biology and what he’s done with his research. From FRIDAY’s readings, everything’s pointing towards him being fine, but…” The man’s voice trailed off.

Steve raised his eyebrows, “but?” He repeated.

“But,” Bruce cleared his throat, “he’s going to have a rough night. He’s in a dreaming state and we think that it could temporarily cause hallucinations. That is _if_ he wakes up before the sedative we gave him wears off.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded and glanced to his right, watching Natasha and Clint set him down on the couch.

“I’m just glad that Wanda and Vision are staying in NY right now,” Clint remarked, putting his hands on his hips, “I don’t think either of them would want to get into this mess right now.” The archer’s blue eyes flicked up at Steve before hurriedly returning to the unconscious man below him.

Steve silently concurred. 

“Someone needs to watch him,” Natasha said softly, tucking a blanket around Tony; Steve couldn’t help the sharp twinge of jealousy as she ran her hand across the man’s forehead. If he, the ‘terrible Steve Rogers’ did that to Tony, the man would flay him alive. Well, now anyway. There wouldn’t have even been a second thought about it several years ago…

“I will,” Bruce volunteered first, “I don’t mind staying up.”

Clint volunteered next before Steve could get his brain back up to speed -which seemed odd for him.

As Natasha and Clint retired for the night, Bruce settled in the small armchair in the corner, moving it slightly to face Tony. Steve, after briefly hesitating, made his way to the far end of the long couch from Tony and sat down. Bruce did not comment on his move but rather watched him with an unreadable expression.

“You know, he needs you, Steve,” Bruce said after a while, fingering his glasses in his hands, “he _desperately_ needs you. I know that Natasha has told you something similar.” Steve made a move to respond, but the man held up a hand. “I _know_ that you know it too, don’t take it the wrong way. I just think that sometimes we all need a reminder. Whether it’s to appreciate the small things, to love our lives, to live, or what our morals are, we all need to be reminded sometimes; I think right now, you need to be reminded that things aren’t hopeless.”

A rush of gratitude ran through Steve and he relaxed his hands -which he hadn’t even realized had been clenched in his lap.

Bruce continued, “Tony trusts me, you know this too. He confides things to me and me alone in many cases. That is our relationship. I listen, I talk -we rely on one another like that. So when I say ‘I know’, Steve, I really do know. He worries about you constantly and hates himself more and more every time he sees you now. God, where to start…” The man ran a hand across his face and sighed.

Steve sat at the end of the couch like a vegetable, watching the slow rhythm of Tony’s breathing.

“I sometimes see it in his eyes,” Steve confessed at last, making Bruce nod slowly. “I -there’s a change.”

His memory flashed back just after they’d returned. Tony, upon exiting the suit, had watched him. From the man’s body language, it was clear that he didn’t want Steve to know that he was watching. Naturally, Steve had botched that almost immediately, turning around and accidentally staring right into the genius’s eyes. It had been as though a switch had flipped and almost instantly, any warmth or hint of compassion was gone.

Steve thought of the moment curiously. It did validate what Bruce said, but still…

“Steve, he still dreams about it.”  
“Bucky and I… the fight?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. He was torn. On one hand, he still felt that his decisions had been justified and forced by the situation he’d been in, while the other side of him was regretting every single minute of what he had dubbed ‘the fallout’. He had almost single-handedly destroyed the Avengers. Sure, Natasha, Clint, Vision, Wanda, and the others had managed to merge once more, but there was undeniably a gap between them. And Bruce? Well, he’d shown up later and that didn’t matter too much. If anything, the man had been a sort of glue for the team, healing past wounds by being a neutral party in the matter. Steve was happy for them, he really was, but there was no way in hell that it would be as easy for him to return to ‘normalcy’. Heck, he’d been the one to break it apart in the first place.

“I can still remember that like it was yesterday,” Steve burst out, “I just remember trying to calm him down -and there was no stopping Bucky until he lost his metal arm- oh god.”

Suddenly feeling choked, Steve turned his head away from where he’d been facing Banner and looked at Tony again.

“Well, it’s clear that he remembers it-” Bruce began but stopped short as Tony gave a sudden yelp from the couch.

Steve was instantly on his feet, backing away warily as Bruce rushed past him and knelt down beside Tony, laying a hand on the man’s forehead to feel his temperature.

 _‘He’s awake’_ he mouthed to Steve who swallowed thickly.

An arm flew out and struck Bruce hard on the chin, sending him backward. Just as Bruce’s body connected with the table, Tony ripped the covers off himself and leaped down from the couch as if it were a trampoline. His hair unkempt and his clothes rumpled, paired with the crazed madness in his eyes, gave him a feral wildness. This was only accentuated as he raised his fists into what Steve recognized as his normal fighting stance. The longer the man stood there, however, the more his expression fought between anger and deep, soul-crushing sadness. It tore at Steve’s heart to see him like this.

“You killed her!” Tony bared his teeth at the rising Bruce, who was just clambering to his feet, using the coffee table to stabilize himself. “How could you kill her?”

Bruce, now fully invested in the hostile Tony, raised his hands, “Tony, listen to me, whatever you’re seeing, it was in the past. You-”

Tony snarled and circled Bruce, completely ignoring Steve who only stood several meters away. “Why did you hide it from me for so long?” His voice was deadly and filled with ice.

Bruce was gazing into Tony’s eyes, “Tony -Tony, can you hear me?”

With a hiss, Tony swung his fist at the other man’s head. Bruce hurriedly backed out of range, his hands making a soothing gesture in front of him. Steve took a step forward but stopped as Bruce threw him a warning glance. Without so much as a sound, Steve backed away from the conversation and tiptoed into the kitchen, hiding around the side of the half-wall there.

While Tony hadn’t officially moved, Steve noticed a slight tremor in the man’s hand. In sharp contrast, Bruce was fiddling with his hands in a very Tony-like fashion. Together, the pair were locked in a staring contest, neither of them, from what Steve could see, was even blinking.

“No.” Tony broke the silence first, blinking and looking around the room with barely-masked confusion, “this is _wrong_. How did I- _shit_! I need to reconfigure the emitters!”

The genius lurched forward and took off for the stairs, running a hand through his hair. Eyes wide, the man looked positively insane. Steve was half-tempted to intervene but somehow felt that he could only make matters worse.

“Tony!” Bruce cried, chasing after the man, “wait! What are you saying? The emitters were incorrect?”

“It explains why I keep having hallucinations.”

Even from a distance, Steve could see Bruce gawking. The pair were going down the stairs now, Tony was already out of view, his voice muffled as he explained the technobabble behind his repeated ‘sleepwalking’. Steve, however, _did_ hear Bruce’s indignant yell.

“And this has happened more than once?”

Steve sighed and slowly made his way out of the kitchen, freezing as soft footsteps came from behind him.

“Are you still sure you want to try and fix this?” It was Falcon, wearing only a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, fresh out of the gym.

Doubt seeped into Steve’s gut and he cleared his throat, “I… yes.”

Falcon chugged a glass of water and raised his eyebrows, “well we’ve been here for months now and Stark hasn’t gotten any better. Now if it were me, I’d try and get a move on it.”

“Just out of curiosity, why do you say that?” Steve asked, focusing on a spot just above the other man’s right shoulder.

“Well, it’s just that I don’t want things to get worse than they already are. We’re a family, Steve. And call me crazy, but when something bad happens to one person, everyone else feels it too. We're all in this together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this fic has not been beta read, so please let me know if you see anything glaring. I try to go through and edit my works but I ALWAYS miss something. 
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, and constructive criticism (please, I'm begging you on the last one) are welcome :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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